


Doctor

by Crockzilla



Series: Domesti-Kink with Spideypool [7]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: D/s, Dom/sub, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Peter Parker is a Doctor, doctor!peter, patient!Wade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 08:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12032208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crockzilla/pseuds/Crockzilla
Summary: Wade visits Doctor Parker. It is kinky, and then there are feels.





	Doctor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notlucy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlucy/gifts).



> Bless all of the wonderful Sherlock medical kink fics that helped inspire this one!
> 
> My knowledge of science stops at "the sun provides light," so please overlook all medical inaccuracies.

The truth was, despite his sunny exterior, Wade was in pretty much constant pain. Low-key pain, usually, but it was always there. Healing factor or no, he had advanced-stage cancer, and while his mutation wouldn’t ever let it get enough of a grip to become debilitating, boy did it sure try. And the healing part didn’t exactly feel like being kissed by dewdrops, either. It was a war that took place in his body every second of every day, just in the background.

Except for when it wasn’t in the background, which was usually when he was trying to rest and recover from a particularly big fight. On those nights, he’d sit gripping the edge of their bed, his whole body rigid as he tried not to yell out and upset his Spidey, and Peter would sit behind him, wrapped around him, head a comforting weight on his shoulder, until it subsided. Peter never got upset, and he never said anything about it the next day, but Wade could always tell he was worried. He was a Hufflepuff, after all, and next to taking really really good care of people, worrying was what Hufflepuffs did best.

But in addition to being a Hufflepuff, Peter Parker had a doctorate in bio-engineering, so Wade probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when Peter told him that he’d been working on a way to help with the pain. Yeah, he definitely should have seen that coming, but he was still not quite used to the whole someone seriously giving a shit about him thing. He still got a happy thrill of surprise when Peter did things like remember some stupid story he’d told him forever ago, or wear a hoodie and two pairs of socks to bed because he was small and freezing but he knew Wade was burning up, because that was (evidently) the kind of stuff you did when you were really very in love with someone.

“I don’t know if it’ll work,” Peter told him, all hopeful and anxious at once, “but I kind of can’t do anything else with it until we try it out.”

But the reason Peter hadn’t told him about it until now was that Wade had a _legit_ phobia of all things medical-related. For obvious reasons. It wasn’t like he ever needed the ER or a doctor, and it was a good thing because the thought of pretty much any kind of medical paraphernalia made his throat close up.

“I know,” Peter said, squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to. It’s up to you.”

But he wanted to, mostly because he could see how much Peter wanted to be able to do this for him. Wade said yes, he wanted to try, because the thing about a trauma-related phobia was, you couldn’t really get around it with _wanting_. So – they had a contingency plan, and Peter swore he was prepared to knock Wade the fuck _out_ if he showed any signs of going all John Rambo. And on top of that, they had what Wade thought was a particularly brilliant way to start things off on a good note.

“Deep breath.”

Wade breathed in through his nose as deeply as he could, Peter’s scent (shampoo and happy) filling his lungs. He breathed out and watched Peter’s eyes as he listened intently through the stethoscope, moving the listening-thing to another part of Wade’s chest and pressing it gently against his skin.

“Again.”

Wade took another slow, deliberate deep breathe. This was a fantastic idea. He was already super floaty and relaxed, just from the intimacy of being _examined_ this way. Peter – ahem, _Doctor_ Parker – was listening to the _inside_ of him. The thought made him hum happily, which made Peter’s eyes go wide. “Oops,” Wade said.

“I thought your _lungs_ were humming,” Peter laughed, taking off the stethoscope and setting it back on the tray of medical funzies (because Wade said that seeing everything would make it easier on him, and calling them “funzies” instead of instruments would help keep things sexy instead of scary).

“Am I healthy, Doctor?” Wade asked, batting his eyelashes in what he hoped was an innocent, doe-in-the-forest sort of way.

Peter gave him a questioning look for an instant, then quickly remembered he was supposed to be all professional. He cleared his throat and put on his Serious Doctor face, which was hilariously cute rather than authoritative, but Wade didn’t mind. “Yes, your heart and lungs seem to be all – doing what they’re supposed to do. Um—“ he glanced at the tray and picked up a popsicle stick and tiny flashlight. “Open wide and stick out your tongue, please.”

Wade complied immediately, and Peter gently restrained his tongue with the popsicle stick that they’d gotten from the craft drawer at home. For some reason, Parker Industries kept stethoscopes stocked in their labs, but not things like tongue depressors, so they had improvised where necessary. Wade obediently followed Peter’s finger with his eyes as he held it in front of him. He was pretty sure Peter had zero clue what he was looking for (because he was “not that kind of doctor” as he’d been repeatedly reminding Wade for days so he wouldn’t get his expectations too high) but that wasn’t the point. The point was Peter, in charge, telling him what to do and _looking_ at him in a way that was caring but clinical. Also, Peter looked really _GOD-_ damn hot in the white lab coat he was wearing.

“Everything looks good,” Peter announced as he returned the funzies to their tray. He turned back to Wade, placing his hands on either side of Wade’s thighs where he was sitting on the exam table, but then caught himself. “Ooh,” he whispered, “am I allowed to kiss you?”

“Always,” Wade whispered back. “Why are we whispering?”

“ ‘Cuz,” Peter continued to whisper, glancing around the empty, quiet lab, “I don’t want to ruin the whole doctor-play thing. I’m sorry I’m so terrible at this.”

Wade leaned in and kissed him. He didn’t mind topping from the bottom a little, not when his Top was so willing and attentive. “You’re not terrible at _any_ thing, Doc. Perhaps you should feel my glands?”

Peter snerked, but quickly stifled it and put his Serious Doctor face back on. He placed his fingers behind Wade’s ears, applying gentle, steady pressure as he moved his fingertips down along Wade’s jaw and neck, lingering over his pulse-point. Wade felt his entire insides drop blissfully down with the movement of Peter’s hands on his skin. Maybe this would be easy, after all.

“You’re very healthy, Wade,” Peter said in his Doctor voice. “Anything else I should check out?”

Wade blinked back at Peter’s perfectly earnest expression. Either his beloved was fucking with him to get him to _ask_ for it (which was very likely and also perfectly fine with Wade), or he had honest-to-god never properly played Doctor before. “Um, maybe you should – take my temperature?”

“Oh, yeah,” Peter said, seeming to be genuinely reminded. “That’s actually not a bad idea because it’s one of the things I’ll track while we’re trying out the thing.”

Wade pouted as Peter held one of those new-fangled forehead readers up to him. “What’s wrong?” Peter asked, still seeming genuine. Jesus Christmas, maybe he really _hadn’t_ played Doctor before, which was just a fucking _sin,_ but also _extra_ precious and Peter would deeefinitely need an appointment with Dr. Deadpool in the near future.

“Don’t you think you should take a more – accurate reading?” Wade suggested.

Peter frowned. “This is the most accurate way there is, they use this in hospitals.”

Wade sighed. “Isn’t there a more – _invasive_ way you could take it?”

Peter looked confused for exactly three more seconds, and then his eyes lit up. “Oh. OH! Oh, yes,” he cleared his throat. “Yes, of course, that’s absolutely necessary—“

Wade bounced up and down excitedly as Peter looked in drawers and cabinets. He should have known his sweet Spidey wouldn’t bat an eye about this particular kink.

“Oh, babe,” Peter whispered as he frantically rummaged through the last drawer in the lab, “I don’t think we have those kind of thermometers here…”

“Oh,” Wade whispered, deflating slightly, “well, in that case, I guess my prostate’s been feeling a little inflamed or something.” That was fine. Not quite the same as object-insertion, but it would do.

“Wait!” Peter said, jumping up from where he was searching under a sink. “I think I can save this. _Ahem,_ Wade, I need you to lay on your front now, please.”

_Oomph,_ and that hit the spot deep inside of Wade’s mind that made his head swim and his pulse roar in his ears. He had no idea what Peter was planning, but that sweet voice saying those words in that Doctor tone, polite with the expectation of being obeyed – well, he had to concentrate hard not to fall off the table from arousal-dizziness as he complied with his instructions.

Wade lay with his cheek on the exam table (which was surprisingly comfy) and watched as Peter dug through his own backpack, dropping whatever he found in the pocket of his white coat before Wade could see it. He grabbed a couple of additional items, _also_ using his body to block them from Wade’s sight, and then he approached the exam table with a barely-concealed smirk on his face. Shiver, shiver, _shiver_.

“Lift up your hips, please.”

Holy _shit._ Wade tried his best to obey as he felt Peter’s fingertips in the waistband of his Spider-man boxer-briefs. He had to remind himself to breathe as he felt the material slide over his skin to rest just below his ass, only exposing as much as was medically necessary, which was so _fucking_ hot for some reason. He waited to feel Peter’s hands on him, but instead he heard the distinctive _snap_ of a latex glove. Wade turned his face into the exam table and moaned – of course Peter would be perfect at this, of _course_ he would.

He was so busy worrying about how much of this he’d get to enjoy before his brain broke that he actually yelped a little when he felt gloved fingers part his ass cheeks, followed soon by a warm, slick finger gently circling his entrance. He had penetrated and been penetrated by many a person and thing in his time on this earth, but his breath still caught in his throat at the sensation of Peter’s finger applying steady pressure to the tight ring of muscle. He felt the entire digit slide into him, gently but insistently. It was probably not strictly necessary to prep him this well to have his temperature taken, but he wasn’t about to argue with his doctor.

He felt the intruding finger pull out of his body, leaving a delicious little burn/ache. “I’m inserting the thermometer now,” he heard Doctor Parker say. “You may feel some pressure.”

Wade nodded. He felt a smooth, blunt something press against his slick asshole, then steadily slide into him, stretching him open. This was _not_ a thermometer.

“You need to stay absolutely still while I take the reading,” Doctor Parker said as he continued pressing the entire length of the thing into him. “Five minutes. If you move, we’ll have to start over from the beginning.”

Before Wade could finish processing that information, he heard a small _snick_ and felt something begin to move inside of him. Realization dawned: the thing currently shimmying torturously in his ass was Peter’s On-the-Go Dildo, which he kept in his backpack for just such occasions as this, turned out. And then, because there wasn’t quite enough happening to his ass yet, Wade felt Peter’s hand rest around the OtG Dildo, holding it firmly in place but also holding down Wade’s hips so that he could get _zero_ friction or relief.

“Hold still,” Doctor Parker warned, “or we start over.”

Wade whimpered, glancing at Peter in his peripheral vision to see if that would garner any sympathy, but no, he continued to look dispassionately down at Wade’s predicament, which was – _jeeezus,_ SO very very hot. Where he’d been floundering in an unfamiliar kink before, now Peter was in his fucking element. Wade concentrated on breathing through his nose, trying not to feel the horrible/delicious things the vibrator was doing to him, or Peter’s hand resting firmly on his ass, or the way his poor dick was pressing almost painful into the exam table underneath him because it was _sooo goddamn hard_. He fought the urge to lift his hips to get some kind of relief or try to squirm to get some kind of friction from the dildo because it was just grazing his Magic Button and how did Peter even _know_ where the exact right spot was to make it do that?!?

“One more minute,” Doctor Parker said, rubbing his lower back in a way that was somehow still clinical and was clearly meant to help Wade tough it out but instead made him groan pitifully into the table because it just reminded him of how _helpless_ he was against Peter’s benevolent authority. He was panting and shaking with the strain of holding perfectly still (because he was The Best Sub Ever goddamnit [Peter had _told_ him so]), and when he glanced back he could see that, while he was still watching the vibrator jiggle mercilessly in Wade’s ass, Peter was not unaffected by the situation. And because there wasn’t quite enough Gay in the room already, that made Wade fall in love with his guy a little bit more.

And just when he thought his entire pelvis was going to _melt,_ he heard Peter’s watch beep (when had he set his watch??). “Good boy,” Peter said in his Proud Dom voice which wasn’t strictly clinical but Wade did _not_ care at this point, because the sound of those words and the feeling of Peter’s hands on him as he gently removed the vibrator and rolled Wade onto his back was too too wonderful. Even though his dick no longer being smushed against the exam table was a _HUGE_ relief, Wade’s head was still buzzing as his body tried to deal with all of the sensations that had suddenly been taken away, and he was only dimly aware of Peter sliding his boxer-briefs the rest of the way off.

“Bend your knees up, please,” Doctor Parker said as he helped Wade bend his knees to plant his feet flat on the exam table, exposing aaall of his Special Areas to the air. He watched as Peter wrapped a hand around his very very erect cock, and just as his poor fuzzy brain had realized what was going to happen next his doctor had taken _all_ of him straight down his fucking amazing throat. As the frighteningly powerful orgasm he’d been fighting started to crest, he felt two fingers slip into his slicked-up ass and stroke _right_ on the right spot, which made his vision actually white out, but not before he glanced down to see Peter looking at him, mouth full of his cock and sucking greedily.

He was not sure how long he lost consciousness, but he came back to the sound of Peter’s soft laughter and the feeling of an ungloved hand lovingly petting his chest.

“AmIhealthydoctor?” he heard himself slur.

He hummed into Doctor Parker’s mouth as he kissed him. “Yeah, I’d say you’re pretty much perfect.”

Wade cooed and made grabby hands towards his Spidey because now was usually when he got to fuck him into oblivion (which totally counted as After Care, thank you) but Peter shook his head, taking his hands and kissing them. “Let’s save that for later. How about we do the thing now while you’re all happy and relaxed and floaty still?”

Oh, right. The Thing. “Good idea,” Wade sighed, blissfully. “It goes in my ass, too, right?”

Peter cocked his head to the side. “That could work.”

Wade sat up. “For realz?”

“Yeah! I mean,” Peter scratched the back of his head, somewhat nervously, “I could do that when I make the final version, but for now…”

“It’s okay, pumpkin,” Wade reassured. He was feeling so genuinely cheerful and sooo blissed out that it seemed impossible anything that happened next would be upsetting. “How do you want me?”

Moments later, Peter had him sitting in a chair, his pants back on (sadly), and a blanket around his shoulders to keep warm (because Peter insisted that it was _freezing_ in the lab [it was actually pretty comfy but Peter was three feet tall with zero percent body fat, so]). Peter had attached some diode-things to his chest and put a pulse-monitor on the end of his right index finger.

Peter stood in front of him, looking him over, carefully. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” Wade said, truthfully. So far, this felt more like a fun science adventure than a medical experiment or, you know, torture under the guise of a medical experiment.

Then Peter wheeled over the tray of stuff he needed for this part, which was mostly needles. All kinds of needles. They’d talked about this, and Peter had showed them to him ahead of time, explaining why they were necessary and what they would do, so Wade was prepared. Yeah. He was prepared. This was fine.

Peter gently swabbed at the crook of Wade’s elbow with alcohol, the sharp smell instantly filling the lab and making it seem much more like a doctor’s office all of the sudden. Wade watched as his guy carefully lined up the end of one of the bigger needles with his vein and swiftly pushed it in. He sucked in his breath at the sensation, which was _ridiculous_ because he’d had his limbs blown off so many times now that he barely even winced, but – there was something about a needle going into his skin and staying there that was uniquely distressing.

Peter pressed a strip of medical tape over the needle, which was strangely reassuring, and planted a light kiss over the spot. “Still okay?” he asked, eyes anxious.

“Totes,” Wade tried to sound nonchalant.

It didn’t work. “You say the word and we’ll stop,” Peter reminded him.

Peter repeated the same process with the other needles, which probably weren’t that many really, but Wade had stopped keeping track because he’d had to start focusing on a spot on the wall and breathing deliberately through his nose. They weren’t in a power dynamic – they had talked about it, but Peter had been uncomfortable with the idea of Wade trying to stick it out to be good for Peter when he was dealing with an actual trauma. Wade had agreed, but right now he was wishing he was so far down in sub-land that he couldn’t think about the fact that multiple foreign objects were underneath his skin, some of them injecting fluid into him, some about to send electricity throughout his nerves. He felt his throat closing up and had to open his mouth to take a deep breath.

Peter sat down in front of him, pulling a cart with what looked like a radio type thing (it had nobs) towards them. He turned to Wade, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “So, I’m going to start at a super low level, and I’m going to watch your vitals,” he gestured to the small monitor Wade was hooked up to, “and I’ll really gradually increase it to see kind of where the threshold is. You probably won’t ever feel the pulse, but if you _do_ , you tell me, okay?” Peter held his gaze, seriously. “That’s useful data, and this is just about data-gathering.”

Wade nodded. Peter looked at him for a moment, big pretty eyes all anxious and concerned, and Wade thought he might ask him again if he was sure about trying this, but he didn’t, and Wade was relieved because if he had Wade very well might have said “nope let’s go home and cook dinner and do smex” and he _did_ want to do this and he was going to be just fine, goddamnit.

Peter kept a hand on his knee as he carefully turned one of the knobs. Just as he’d said, Wade didn’t feel anything, no change, just the vague awareness of spindly things under his skin. He watched Peter watch the monitor, concentrating on his Spidey’s lovely face, the little details of his expression, how he worried his lip a bit because he was deep in science thought. And it helped – his throat didn’t feel as tight anymore, and his heart didn’t feel like it was pounding as hard (could Peter see his heart pounding on that screen?) but watching Peter also made him feel more and more like he might – cry. Maybe he was getting Little? That might be okay, because then maybe Spider-mom would hold him in his lap and sing 80s pop to him while they did this.

Real talk, though: Peter would do that regardless of whether Wade was Little, if he asked, but he wasn’t Little, and he didn’t want to move. He just wanted to grit his teeth and get through this before he seriously demoralized himself. Peter, Wade realized as he watched his guy turn the knob up more, had never reeeaaally seen him at his lowest. He’d seen him super duper vulnerable, he’d seen him a blissful mess after being taken apart by erotic happen-stancing, but he’d never seen him – shattered. Broken. That hadn’t happened much at all since Spidey and Deadpool had finally made it official. But as he tried to focus on the wall and breathe through his nose to ignore what was happening to his body, Wade felt a way-too-familiar surge of fear start to rise up in his mind. So he focused his gaze back on Peter’s sweet, intent face, even though it made him feel like he was coming undone, because dissolving into a sobbing mess would be better than freaking out and destroying the lab in a fit of terror-induced rage.

But none of that happened, not even as Peter increased the level of electrical surge to what he said was the furthest point they needed to get to. Part of Wade relaxed ever so slightly – he was making it. He could do this. And even though he wasn’t supposed to think of it this way, he would make Peter happy and proud of him.

Then he felt something different. Or he thought he did. It could have been just the knowledge that this was the max amount of juice Peter would send through his nerves, but he thought he felt a low, subtle _burning._ First it was just around the needles he knew were electrified, then gradually it crept out to cover his whole body. He thought he’d been close to panic before – now it was welling up in his fucking throat, about to rip out of him. He swallowed to try to contain it. Peter noticed (of course) and turned his sharp eyes on Wade’s face where they immediately turned gentle. He took his hand. “Couple more minutes and we’ll go home and put the lasagna in the oven. We’re, like, 1.5 hours from lasagna-face-stuffing.”

Ah, the lasagna. They’d had such fun making the pasta sheets themselves, which Wade had said was a hilarious waste of time but which Peter had insisted was _essential_ because without homemade pasta lasagna was just sauces (and he should know because he was raised by an Italian-American lady). Wade had draped one of the sheets over his head to dry and called himself the Virgin Marinara which Peter had thought was waaaaay funnier than it actually was, and suddenly the burning he felt in his skin was being countered by a warmth that felt like it was deep deep inside of his chest. It didn’t make the burning sensation go away, and it didn’t make his throat feel less tight or his pulse stop pounding in his ears, but it was _there._ It was something he didn’t associate with fear and pain, or with knowing he was going to die alone and helpless at the hands of people who thought of him as a thing rather than a person.

He jumped a little as Peter squeezed his knee. “Done!” he announced, quickly moving to remove all of the needles and diodes from Wade’s skin.

With each touch of Peter’s careful hands, Wade felt his heart slow and his throat open and his insides unclench, but as they did, the feeling of _shit shit shit don’t cry don’t scare Spidey_ grew stronger. Wade dug his palms into his eyes, trying to fake a yawn as he did so that maybe Peter would think he was just so relaxed that he had to wake himself up.

It didn’t work, of course. Peter adjusted the blanket more securely around his shoulders. “Are you okay, babe?”

“Oh, yeah,” Wade said with as much bravado as he could muster (which wasn’t much). “So how will we know if it works? Is there, like – a strip that turns blue?”

Peter laughed a little but still looked worried. Poor Hufflepuff. “Well, I got a lot of good data, so that should help me make the real version better. And I’ll make it so it’s ass-insertable next time.”

Wade hummed as naughtily as he could, trying to surreptitiously rub at his arms which felt shaky and weak for some reason. He almost made a crack about how Peter sticking anything in him in any fashion was a treat, but even in his head it sounded hollow and needlessly dishonest. Peter had seen what happened to him, and they were past the point in their relationship where he could cover up something like that with smartass innuendo.

“Um, so –“ Peter began, tentatively rubbing his own hands up and down Wade’s arms having obviously picked up on what Wade was doing, “do you feel – any difference? Pain-wise? You probably don’t, but.”

Oh, right! Wade had been so preoccupied by what they were doing that he’d forgotten _why_ they were doing it, and Peter had warned him that since it was still in the development phase it might not actually do anything to stop his pain for now, but that didn’t mean later it wouldn’t be able to…uh…

…Huh. Shit.

……Holy _shit._

“What?” Peter asked, urgently. “Wade, what’s wrong?”

Wade gulped at the lump that was now apparently in his throat. He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s um – I don’t feel it.”

“Don’t feel what?” Peter asked, still dead serious as if he was ready to grab the AED that hung on the wall.

“Um – the feeling, the cancer-eating-me feeling.” _Pain._ Why was he weirdly not wanting to say pain?

Peter took his hand, his posture of Spidey-readiness relaxing a bit. “Is that okay? Are you--?”

“Yeah. It’s very very weird, but—“ Wade finally looked Peter in his lovely eyes and settled there, sighing a bit. “It’s amazing. I forgot what it felt like to not be, um…”

He trailed off because his voice didn’t work anymore for some reason, but that was evidently okay because Peter’s arms were around him, warm and aaalmost squeezing him too hard with Spidey-strength but in that way that felt so, _so_ perfect. He heard the soft sound of Peter trying really really hard not to cry, and he realized his own face was ever so slightly damp.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, pressing the sides of their faces together. “I’m sorry I’m getting my gay all over you, but I just didn’t think it would work at all today, and it may not last long, but –“

“It’s okay, boo,” Wade comforted, wiping his face on Peter’s shoulder. “See, now my gay is on you, as well.”

Peter laughed, pulling back so they could look at each other with their slightly-red eyes. “I think we probably were already perpetually covered in each other’s gay.”

“Inside and out,” Wade agreed.

Then they kissed. Not a teenagers-necking, baby-making kiss, but like – a grown-up kiss. They broke apart and rested their foreheads together, and Wade remembered the time they’d gotten tied up in webbing by accident and Spider-man had been _so_ irritated with him, and he wished he could take this moment right here back in time and show it to past!them, just to see their faces.

“Let’s go home and get gay all over that lasagna.”

“ ‘kay,” Peter agreed, handing him his shirt. “But we’ll eat it too, right?”

“Aaaw, are you a hungry little spider?”

“Um, _yes_ ,” Peter admitted freely as he quickly wiped down the stethoscope, threw their personal medical supplies in his backpack, and tossed all the used needles into the sharps container. Wade marveled at how harmless and inert they looked now. “Playing doctor is hard work.”

Indeed. They held hands all the way home, which they usually didn’t do simply because they needed their hands to animatedly act out whatever they were talking to each other about, but they were both pretty exhausted. Wade knew in the back of his mind that they’d probably both experience some feelings-fall-out later, after the ordeal they’d just been through, but for now, he enjoyed the extra strange sensation of _not_ being in pain. It might not last long, but it was happening, and it was a miracle. Everything that had just happened was a goddamn miracle, and they were going to enjoy it. And then, later, when they were full of lasagna, he’d talk to Peter about making that appointment with Dr. Deadpool.

“Do we have wine at home?”

“Maybe?”

“We should probably pick some up, huh?”

“Probably. Just to be safe.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be really kinky and hardcore, but it ended up being all gross and married-people-ish, and I blame Peter and Wad.
> 
> Next up is somnophilia (finally!) and breeding/filling (finally!) and then probably more age play and then whatever you wonderful beauties would like, so lemme know!
> 
> Happy weekend!! XOXO


End file.
